Red-Like-A-Very-Very-Red-Object
by Sean Bean Rocks my Heinz
Summary: Well...it's another fabby-dabby cats fairy tale like device, only this time it's Snow White...and it's rather putrid and bad, but enough about me. Enjoy the Ebola Virus my dears!


Red-As-A-Very-Very-Red-Object  
  
  
It was the middle of Winter, and the snowflakes were falling like feathers from the sky, and a queen sat at her window working, and her embroidery-frame was of ebony.  
  
But that has nothing to do with anything.  
  
Our story starts when a beautiful young kitten was born with fur as red as a very very red object, and so, because her parents were unimaginitive hippies, she was called "Red-As-A-Very-Very-Red-Object" or "Bombie" for short, although don't ask me how or why.  
  
And when she was born, her mother died for convenience.  
  
After a year had gone by, Bombie's father, who was sick and tired of raping small unfortunate animals in the night, took another mate, a beautiful Tom, but camp and eccentric, and he could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone, but that's irrelevant.  
  
It so happened that one day, for no reason at all, the author, who was a sick perverted freak of nature, wrote a horny self-proclaimed Sex God-like maned hunk into the story, and he took Bombie many, many times and the author watched in voyueristic delight and made a mess on the keyboard...  
  
But not all were happy at the sight, for the Wicked Queen...Tom...whatever...let's just call him "Plato".  
  
Well "Plato" - WINK - had a magic looking glass....well....he CALLED it a magic looking glass, but really it was two unfortunate calicos chained to a wall for Platos personal pleasure.  
But for the kittens reading - hello darlings...comfy? Cozy? Scared out of your wits? No?! WHY THE HECK NOT?! - we'll just say it was a looking glass.  
  
And through this "looking glass" - WINK - "Plato" - WINK - could see Bombie and her horny self-proclaimed Sex God-like maned hunk...oh...let's just call him "Rum Tum Tugger"  
And Plato, who had only mated with Bombie's father - Gus - to get his catnip, fell madly in love with "Tugger" or at least wanted to live in his pants.  
  
Plato would look through the window wistfully at "Tugger" each morning and ask his "mirror":  
  
Do I stand a chance?  
  
And the "mirror" would tell him:  
  
Uhh....well...ya see....um...I am the great Mungojerrie...an' stuff, right? An'...uhh...stuff is gonna 'appen ta ya in you're future...so...yeah...  
  
and Plato was content...and then...he wasn't.  
  
He saw "Tugger" growing fonder - WINK - of Bombie every day, and his heart turned against her, and he hated her.  
  
He called for his Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Thing (because all evil qu..to...Platos have evil Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Things) and he told him to take Bombie into the Woods (because when there is a Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Thing then there's always a wood) and put her to death and bring back her living, breathing body as proof.   
  
And the Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Thing blinked a couple of times and said "Naw danger..." and was off like a flash...then he took Bombie into the woods and told her "Naw danger", but Bombie was so scared by his fearfully blazing eyes, amazing jaws and hairy armpits that she ran far off into the woods and did not stop until the faint cries of "Naw danger" finally faded away. However, the poor Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Thing was left with no choice but to cellotape four unfortunate mistreated squirrels together and tell Plato "Naw danger".  
  
Meanwhile, Bombie had found herself alone in the wild woods, and was quite full of terror, even of the very leaves on the trees, for they were famous for being canivorious cat-eating leaves, or so lied the author, and Bombie didn't know what to do for fright. She ran and ran over flat soft grass and through smooth thornless thorn bushes, and the pretty multicoloured pollicles danced around her, but they did not attack her for they were merely drug-induced images of her own creation. she ran as fast as she possibly could until she finally decided to stop chasing her tail and walked inside the small hut the Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Thing had dumped her outside of (for you see the wood only consisted of two trees, flat soft grass, a smooth thornless thorn-bush and a wee hut....but I had you going there, huh?)  
  
In the hut, there was a small table lined with seven little plates and seven little forks, and seven little beds against the wall, covered in seven little soiled quilts, seven little plastic orange trees, seven giant inflatable whales, and seven little marble statues of hens choking on X-Ray Sunglasses.  
  
Bombie, being rude and impractical, ate all the food on the plates, the fridge and in the larder, snuffed all the catnip, scratched all the beds, uprooted the plastic orange trees, deflated the whales, smashed the statues, and was just making herself at home, when seven little cats marched in and stared at the mess in disbelief.   
  
"Who tidied up the place?" cried the first.  
  
They all began to search the hut as Bombie jumped up and down in their plain view screeching at the top of her lungs until someone finally noticed. She told them how she had come to be in their house, and of her many dangerous hours of chasing her tail, when they took pity on her and told her if she were to clean their house everyday and not eat their flesh during the night then she could stay in the hut with them. They introduced themselves to her.  
  
The first was black and white with mystical powers, but they don't come into this story so forget I told you. He went by the name "Mistoffellees".  
  
The second was entirely white, but could do nothing but contort herself into odd shapes and sizes as a means of communication, and she was called "Victoria"  
  
The third was a hyper sugar-filled constantly drunken fiend called "Etcetera".  
  
The fourth was a pain-in-the-ass but we'll just call her "Electra".  
  
The fifth had large innocent eyes she used as a deadly weapon to get her own way, but that's such a bother to repeatitvely type, so we'll call her "Jemima".  
  
The sixth had quite fancied the name "Pouncival" but to his disgust and much against his wishes, the author named him "Pouncival".  
  
And no one had yet noticed that the seventh wasn't a kitten at all, but in fact a grotesque and obese old tom with tottery grey legs and nintey nine zombie wives trailing behind him whereever he went. For simplicities sake, we shall call him "Old Deuteronomy".  
  
  
Meanwhile, Plato who now had four living, breathing squirrels as proof of Bombie's death, was feeling quite pleased and asked his "looking-glass":  
  
Poor Calicos chained to my wall;  
Have I the hottest arse of all?   
  
And Mungojerrie answered him:  
  
eh...well...yours is nice an' all tha', but there's this tom in the woods called "Ol' Deuteronomy" an'...well...the blokes 'ad nintey nine wives...he can't be all tha' bad...  
  
And Plato was pissed off because he knew that although the mirror was a lying, theiving, lying, naughty, lying scoundrel who lied alot and was inclined to tell fibs, that he always told the truth, and he came up with a plan.  
  
He painted his fur and dressed himself as Macavity so that no one would suspect a thing, and in this disguise, he went next door to the hut, and knocked the door and cried "OLD DEUTERONOMY! I'M GONNA KILL YOU YOU SCUM SUCKING TOE HUGGER!"  
  
But well known to Plato, the seven kittens often went out during the day for convenience, and so Bombie answered the door, and when Plato realised the Hunty-Woods-Cuttery-Bloke-Like Thing had decieved him, he threw the living, breathing squirrels at Bombie and ran away in a huff.  
  
Plato decided he needed a plan to kill Bombie once and for all, and so he painted his fur and dressed himself as Macavity so that no one would suspect a thing, and in this disguise, he went next doot to the hut and knocked the door and cried "Oi! YOU! BOMBIE!"  
  
When Bombie answered the door to return his squirrels, Plato shoved a test tube of the ebola virus up her nose and ran away giggling, forgetting entirely about all those poisonous apples he had spent the past nine years making.  
  
Plato hobbled back to his calicos and asked triumphantly:  
  
Now, my calicos on the wall:  
Who is the fairest tom of all?!  
  
And Mungojerrie looked at him doubtingly and answered:  
  
Old D's still nicer than you are...I mean...he was the one you were supposed to go after, I mean what was the POINT of killing Bombie? We NEED 'er for the plot!  
  
"Umm....well....I got her away from Tugger, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah, but Ol' D is STILL out there!"  
  
"Oh shut up! Who asked you anyway?" Plato sniffed and strutted away.  
  
The kittens, who had just been re-written into the story, found Bombie lying on the ground with a test tube of the ebola virus up her nose, and there came no snore out of her body, and she lay as dead.  
  
They lifted her up, searched for anything poisonous, cut her laces, combed out her fur, and washed her face with water and wine, because they were eejits. They laid her on a bier, and the oauthor was happy again, and all seven sat around it and wept for three days. They would have buried her, but her cheeks were still so rosy, and she was still breathing so much it seemed as if she were still alive. And so the kittens decided they could not place her in the cold balck ground, but instead they placed her in a handy glass coffin in her exact size with her name and life story engraved on it they had made for such an occassion, and they left her in it outside while they went to go worship their plastic orange tree.  
  
It just so happened that the author was going to be clawed to death by ravenous pig-slayers, but that's irrelevant.  
  
The Rum Tum Tugger called off his ravenous pig-slayers, and ran through the wild woods until he reached the glass coffin, and pulled the test tube of sleeping powder out of Bombie's nose, and appologised to all those dead dental patients, and everyone, but especially Bombie, Tugger and the author lived happily ever after. Apart from Plato who had a cavity and was now suffering the effects of the ebola virus.  
  
Oh yes, and Demeter caught food poisoning from a bad apple, but the rest lived happily ever after.  
  
  
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And now for something comple- ...no...wait...corpwrite...and now - this:  
  
He-llo, my darlings! Whether you liked that lovely shite or not, more shall be invading fanfiction.net in the next few days...mwahahaha! oh yes...I don't own anything by the way so don't rob nor sue my you visciously viscious people you! 


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